


As Infinite as the Universe Inside

by galfridian



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Dreams vs. Reality, Dreamsharing, F/M, Psychic Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-03
Updated: 2015-09-03
Packaged: 2018-04-18 20:09:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4718891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galfridian/pseuds/galfridian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt: <em>Vision is unable to dream yet every night he has a vision of a girl all in scarlet.</em> When Vision interfaces with a program buried on a Hydra computer, he and Wanda find their minds linked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Infinite as the Universe Inside

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [scarlet--vision](http://scarlet--vision.tumblr.com/). I'm sure this took a different turn than you expected, but I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Thanks to G for the beta read.

Vision _knows_ her. He observes this recognition of her through the hum in the base of his skull. He realizes: He doesn't just know her—he _will_ know her, all of his days. Then he wonders: Is this human, to see someone the first time and have no doubt?

"I looked in your head and saw annihilation," she accuses. Of course, he thinks, _her_. He searches his mind for her name.

"Look again," he replies. _Wanda_ , he realizes. Vision knew her before he drew his first breath, a flicker of crimson in the colorless void. Now, she looks into his mind, and he offers a glimpse of his soul.

 

Her brother dies.

Wanda's grief is a riptide. It sinks its teeth into Ultron's army and rends it to pieces. Then she lets go, wills her heart to stop its beating.

Vision finds her, drawing her to him as Thor summons a blast of lightning. 

Wanda's eyes find his, and he finds it fitting that the earth chooses this moment to fall away.

 

After, the whisper of her fades. The hum quiets, then disappears altogether, except… 

… except at night.

Vision does not sleep, at least not by human definition. His body requires rest, but his mind requires escape. For this, he has constructed an unending plane, an infinite black where his mind stretches. He has no need to dream.

Yet, every night, she's there: a woman clothed in crimson, always too far away to speak to, too far away to touch. The first night, Vision doesn't realize it's her. The hum has faded, and seeing the woman doesn't reawaken it.

It isn't until their first day of training, when Wanda wears scarlet, that he understands.

He has no answer for her presence in his sleep, although he has theories—a proverbial ghost in the machine, perhaps. Possibly, the Mind Stone is at work.

That night, he calls her name. He doesn't know what he expects—or hopes—but there's nothing. He steps toward her, but the distance between remains immeasurable. She stares out into the black, and he studies her, realizing how poor an approximation of Wanda she is. 

"No," he concludes, "nothing more than a memory."

 

He does not speak to her again.

But some nights, if he sits and listens, Vision can hear the echo of her fearful heartbeat.

 

Vision often rises before dawn. He has breakfast on the roof, watching the sky fill with light. Life continues on.

Today, he wakes late, and finds a bewildered Sam in the kitchen. "So you can sleep past sunrise," Sam greets him. "I owe Romanoff twenty bucks." He rinses a bowl of berries, mixing them as he works.

"Is something wrong? You seemed… suspicious when I arrived."

Sam laughs, pouring the berries into the blender. He adds a pile of banana slices. "Yeah, uh, you just missed Romanoff, actually." He flips the power switch, leaning against the counter as the blender works. "Came through wanting Steve to run a few drills with Wanda."

"That worries you?"

"Well, she kept… smiling." He shrugs. He switches the blender off and divides the smoothie into two glasses, offering one to Vision. "Curious?"

He is.

 

By the time Vision and Sam reach the training room, a crowd has gathered. Natasha stands to the side, watching Steve and Wanda spar. Occasionally, she yells out an order, and Wanda adjusts her tactics.

For someone with so little training with hand-to-hand combat, she holds her own against Captain America. He isn't using his full strength, but he's certainly using all of his skill, and it's obvious that Wanda has been learning from Natasha.

Wanda moves as if to strike with her upper body; when Steve reacts, she ducks and kicks out her left foot. Steve falls. To Natasha, she says, "Everyone?"

"Everyone," Natasha affirms. At Vision's raised eyebrow, she adds,"Has a weakness."

"Well?" asks Wanda, helping Steve to his feet.

Steve sighs, conflicted. He glances at Natasha, who nods. "Okay, point made. You have to start somewhere."

"I started against _you_ ," Wanda reminds him. But Vision knows from the worry still creasing Steve's brow that her combat skills concern him less than bringing her face-to-face with Hydra again. Wanda knows it, too. "I can do this, Captain."

 _This_ , Vision realizes, means today's mission. The morning they buried Pietro, Wanda handed Steve a list of Hydra facilities. Some locations, she stole from Hydra agents' memories; others, she and Pietro visited.

Today, the targeted facility has one of Hydra's high-tech labs. The Maximoffs lived there for six months.

 

An hour from the target, Wanda grows nervous. Up front, Steve and Natasha don't notice, but Vision sees the tension in her shoulders. She flexes her hands, releasing little waves of scarlet energy to sooth herself. Nearby, a crate bearing the Stark logo catches her eye.

Vision leans forward, blocking the crate from view. "Does it trouble you, Wanda? Working with Tony?"

Wanda allows a little smile, one Vision recognizes as affection rather than contentment. "Sometimes, I forget that Tony is the Stark I hated," she admits.

"Miss Potts assures me he isn't that man anymore. I believe she must knows better than anyone."

"In my life, I have experienced much I have not liked. Giving Tony a little forgiveness was not the worst of it," Wanda says. She closes her eyes, resting her head against the wall behind them. "Pietro and I chose this together. I need to believe it was right."

 

"This base was built beneath acres of farmland," Wanda explains as Steve lands the jet. "Hydra hid the entrances behind panels in the barns."

"Well, their cover has been blown," Natasha announces. "Come and see."

Crowded around the windshield, they look down at the smouldering remains of the barns. Exhaust billows from a tractor as it sinks into the mud. "Looks like one of the cameras survived," Steve says. "Let's see if we can pull the video."

They disembark with some caution, but it's clear the base has been abandoned. Natasha shakes her head. "Clint would cry."

Steve chooses the nearest barn, clearing the rubble blocking the entrance to the facility below. As they descend the stairs, it becomes obvious that the base was abandoned in a hurry. Whatever couldn't be loaded up has been destroyed. 

A few bodies have been left behind. Their identical wounds suggest a single attacker, someone efficient, but merciful. Steve pauses, his expression inscrutable.

Down a hallway, they find a room piled-high with bizarre tech, damaged beyond repair by a grenade. Most of it looks like unfinished prototypes. "Tony would cry," Steve jokes.

Back in the main lab, they begin sifting through the rubble, searching for anything salvageable. Anything with insight into Hydra's operations. "Ha!" Natasha cries, shoving ceiling tiles aside, revealing a laptop. "Missed one."

The mission otherwise a bust, they return to the remaining camera; but the external damage to the laptop is too severe.

 

Aboard the jet, Natasha sets to work on the laptop, trying to pull something— _anything_ —from the harddrive. 

Wanda lingers at the cargo door, staring out at the farm—searching, Vision thinks, for an echo of her brother there. 

"Vision!" Natasha calls. "Get over here."

Reluctantly, he leaves Wanda looking out over one of the last homes she and Pietro shared. "Were you able to recover something?"

Natasha shakes her head, spinning the laptop to face him. "Fragments, maybe some of it will match with intel we already have. But look at this. It looks like a cipher, right?"

"To what?" Vision asks, kneeling to take a closer look. The code on the screen is… familiar, although he can't place it, and _fascinating_. Wanda kneels beside him, and he realizes that Steve has closed the cargo doors.

"I don't know," Natasha shrugs. "I was thinking maybe you could, you know—" She mimes plugging a cord into a wall.

"You think that's a good idea?" Steve cuts in.

"He has antivirus software, doesn't he? Nothing foreign can attack his programming." She turns to Vision. "Right?"

"An oversimplified description, but yes, essentially." Vision glances at the laptop. "It is… curious."

Natasha grins, delighted. "You sound like Tony."

"That does not comfort me," Steve says. "Can you handle it, Vision?"

"I believe so, yes." The captain nods his assent.

A breath to quiet his thoughts, and then Vision's mind reaches out to the computer. He searches and pulls; his mind untangles the cipher, searches for the riddle it's meant to solve. 

Soon, he realizes the software has been corrupted; the origin of the cipher has been lost. But some of the related files have survived, and Vision pulls at those.

"Wait," Wanda gasps. She grabs his shoulder, as if to pull him away from the laptop. "Wait, I know this. _Stop._ "

Too late. He pieces together the familiar strains of code, incorporating the cipher, and the screen comes to life.

 

Thousands of lines of code appear.

Pain like a rod thrust through his skull; impulsively, his mind withdraws from the computer. The pain persists. 

He legs give out beneath him; the earth seems to upend. His vision goes black.

 

He hears shouting, scrambling. It sounds so faraway.

Slowly, the pain begins to ebb.

As his vision clears, he sees: Steve kneeling beside Wanda, urging her to take deep breaths; Natasha has snapped the laptop closed.

"So much for that antivirus software," Steve says.

"The Stone," Vision explains. His head pounds. His thoughts collide into each other. "The code… came from the Stone. Recognized it, but I couldn't stop it. I couldn't stop—Wanda?"

Her eyes meet his. "The tether," she whispers.

"Tether?" Steve asks.

"Hydra, they—" She shakes her head. "I can't—" Wanda closes her eyes, draws a long, steadying breath. For a moment, Vision's mind clears, and —

" _Oh_ ," he says. Wanda nods, but her eyes remain closed. "Tether." He gestures between his head and Wanda's. "A few minutes?"

 

"Hydra has little trust in its volunteers. When the experiments began, I was given a separate implant." Wanda pulls up her left sleeve, revealing a scar on her forearm.

Steve switches the jet to autopilot and turns to face them. "A tracking device?"

"More efficient than that," Wanda replies. She tugs her sleeve back down to cover her forearm. Vision can still feel her mind—it reaches for his, just as his mind reaches for hers—and he feels each unsettled nerve as if its his own. But the mental barriers they've built ease the strain.

"A tether," Natasha says, teeth clenched.

"The implant bound me to a Hydra agent. If I ran away, it would kill me."

"Somehow, the program has bound our minds," Vision says. "The Stone provided the missing code to rebuild the program, and the program provided a connection to Wanda's neural implants. I'm certain it's reversible, but… "

"You don't know how?" Steve supplies. He sighs, glancing forlornly at Natasha. "Tony?"

"Tony," Natasha agrees.

 

Tony is waiting when they land. "I'm so proud of you," he says, clapping Vision's shoulder.

"I did explain that it doesn't work like that," Vision protests.

"Yeah, yeah: You have the Ultron program, but you aren't Ultron. You have the JARVIS program, but you aren't JARVIS. But look, I built JARVIS, and I built Ultron, so you have some Stark in there somewhere. I mean, I'm not your _father_ , but—"

"—or anyone's, hopefully—" Rhodey interjects.

"—but I'm in there somewhere. Plugging himself into Hydra proves that, right?" Tony replies.

"Maybe focus on this, then you can get back to debating Vision's paternity?" Rhodey suggests.

"Right," Tony says. "Well, you two look like hell, so why don't I start with that—" he gestures toward the laptop "—and you two rest."

 

Vision's quarters occupy the top floor of the eastern wing. In the morning, his rooms fill with sunlight. Coming evening, the shadows stretch until they grow into each other. Tonight, he's thankful for the dark.

Three floors separate him from Wanda, whose quarters face west. The distance is a balm—their barriers are stronger—and yet, Vision feels ill at ease. The tether senses his affection for her, he thinks, and uses it. He wants to go to her, but he locks his door behind him, and forces himself to crawl into bed.

Even with three floors between them, Vision feels Wanda's tension at the edge of his consciousness. Keeping their minds separate has exhausted them both, but the effect on her has been more severe. He knows she won't sleep until he does, so he closes his eyes and wills himself to sleep.

 

He's alone. He stands at the heart of the endless black and sees… no one. How, he wonders, has the tether taken the ghost Wanda away?

Then she appears, nearer than before, and her usual scarlet abandoned. "Vision?"

 _Wanda_ , he realizes, _It's_ actually _Wanda_. "You're really here," he says.

She spins, taking in the infinite black around her. "What is this?"

"My consciousness comes to this place when I sleep." Wanda spins again, lifting herself onto her toes to see further. "How are you here?"

She pauses. "I was asleep. You… called."

"You're all right?"

"Yes," Wanda laughs. "This feels good. It's like… my mind can stretch out." And she's right. Here, they have room, and a space their two minds can share. "But is this all there is?"

"It's all I require," Vision says.

Wanda frowns. "You don't dream?"

He could tell her that this is what he would dream, if he could: Her, here with him. The confession is on his tongue, sweet and hopeful, but instead he says, "You dream to process your day. Everything you saw or heard… Everything you touched. Everything you felt." He steps toward her, scarcely aware he's done so until she mimics him. "I don't need to dream to do that."

Her frown softens, becomes sympathy. "You don't realize, do you? Dreaming is much more than that. It's a reunion with someone you've lost. Or a beautiful story. Or having something you desire, if only for a moment."

"Perhaps," he agrees, but because he doesn't dare to tell her he's not without hopes or desires, he counters, "but I don't have nightmares."

Wanda considers this. "You don't dream of what you can't have and wake feeling… "

"No," he whispers, and a tender silence falls between them. "But you're right: This can be more."

He steps forward. Wanda follows. Beneath their feet, a street appears. In the distance, the Eiffel Tower waits. As they walk, the Parisian streets become desert. The sun is setting, reds and oranges against miles and miles of sand.

The desert becomes Barcelona; Barcelona becomes a jungle. Next, they're standing in London, and the rain is cool on their skin. "Not bad," Wanda laughs, spinning in the rain. "What else have you got?"

He offers his hand. "Come see."

She takes his hand, and as they rise, stars blink to life all around them. "I don't recognize these," Wanda says.

"I took these from from the Mind Stone. The distance between ours stars and these is immense."

"Can I?" she asks.

"Of course," Vision says, lowering them to the ground. The stars disappear, and a city takes their place. He recognizes it. "Sokovia?"

"As it was when I was a child. Pietro and I built this memory."

"The tether must remind you of him."

"When we were children, we never left each other's sides. The other boys teased him, but Pietro didn't care. He said they couldn't understand." Wanda leads him to the stairs outside an apartment building. They sit, watching people mill around. He realizes this must have been their neighborhood. "After the bombs fell, it was easier. We all kept close to our families—or what was left of them.

"But after I let Hydra in here," she taps her temple, "I could _feel_ him. It was always there, but it was stronger. We were closer. Then I lost him, and it was so empty."

"And now?"

"This is… I felt it when he died. I don't want to feel that again."

"You won't have to. Tony will fix this—we will fix it."

Wanda nods, swallowing hard. She stares down at the sidewalk. "The stars, will you bring them back?"

"Of course." They stand, and Sokovia fades. A bed of stars unfolds beneath their feet.

"Do the people who see these stars have stories for them?"

Vision searches his memory, but those who created the Mind Stone had no need for stories—or perhaps, they came before the stories. "I don't know." He looks up at the stars above them. "What do you see?"

"Hmm," she hums. "There." She points, and he follows the line to a red star, far away. "A woman. She wears a hood."

He sees it, the curve of her hips, her face obscured. "Why is she up there?"

Wanda drops her hand, and her fingers brush against his. "When we tell stories about our stars, they're always tragedies. But I think this one chose the stars."

 

The following morning, Steve suggests putting more distance between them. "Wasn't the point of the program to hurt Wanda if she strayed too far?" Sam asks.

"The program in its original form measured physical distance, but we don't know how the program changed," Tony counters.

"We'll be cautious. Tony has sensors that will relay information, including their vitals. With any luck, it helps Tony figure out how to fix this. If we find out more distance helps them, that's great, But if there's a limit to how far apart they can be, we need to know."

Outside, it's decided that Rhodey and Sam will go with Vision, while Steve, Tony, and Natasha stay with Wanda.

He starts slow, ascending a few yards at a time. Little by little, he climbs, feeling Wanda's mind slip further from his. But the tether holds tight, like it's knotted around his mind. Soon, each inch he puts between himself and Wanda feels like a bolt of lightning to his skull. 

He hears his teammates' voices through the comm in his ear, but it's Wanda he searches for; the rest is white-noise. Something pulls at his arm—Sam, he discovers when he turns his head—but it's too late for a warning. The world spins; as Vision careens toward the earth, everything goes black.

 

He lands in the endless dark. Rising, he realizes Wanda is there, too, on her knees and trembling. Cautiously, he approaches her. "Wanda?"

She whips around, frantic. "I couldn't feel you—just before I fainted, I couldn't _feel_ you. And then you weren't here."

He kneels beside her. "I'm here. I'm sorry—Wanda, I'm sorry. I should have been more cautious with that laptop." She leans into him, drawing shallow, uneven breaths. "I'm sorry."

Wanda reaches out, as if to take his hand, but before her fingers brush his, she vanishes.

 

He wakes, too.

 

Tony rubs his eyes, sinking onto a couch. They're gathered in the briefing room. "Here's the problem—with that stone, you have more data that I can sift through in a day or two."

"Not to mention that the Tesseract could control minds," Natasha says. "The stone probably does more than that."

"Exactly. So we need to know how to sort the Mind Stone's nefarious abilities from the program's."

"How long can they go on like this?" Sam asks. "Keeping out of each other's heads takes all their energy."

"Yeah, about that." To Wanda and Vision, he says, "I spoke with Helen. She wants you two on alternating sleep schedules. I'll need to look at those neural implants, Wanda. Vision, you can help me when you're awake."

 

For three days, Vision sleeps twelve hours at a time. He wakes in the evenings, a few hours before Wanda goes to bed; but Natasha has her training, and Tony has a list of ideas. Vision spends nights in the lab, searching the Hydra laptop for clues about the original program.

Tony kicks him out on the fourth night. "Do something that isn't work or sleep," he insists. "Watch some cat videos on the Internet, or whatever androids find funny."

Vision wanders the Academy grounds for a while, hoping to ease his mind. But his thoughts drift relentlessly back to the problem, so he decides to try the Internet.

He doesn't know what he hopes to find, perhaps just a distraction. What he does find: Sokovia. Somewhere in his mind, he probably has a detailed history of it stored, but reading it is a little more like living it. The words and images resonate.

The following morning, when he sleeps, his mind wanders to the photos. One, taken the morning after the bombing that killed Pietro and Wanda's parents, showed three children crying over their parents' bodies, and Vision wonders if those children survived the years that followed.

 

When he wakes, it's from an uneasy sleep. It's early. He's meant to sleep another hour, but he can't settle his mind.

He finds Wanda in the hall, dressed for another training session with Natasha. Seeing her eases his fraying nerves. "Tony claims he's nearly found the answer," she tells him.

"Do you think he will?"

"Maybe. Rhodey thinks so. He keeps me company when Tony wants to look at Hydra's implants."

He's relieved she has someone to talk to—not just spar with—but he can't help the bite of jealousy in his gut. He's lonely, and he misses her.

 

Two more days, Vision gets by on stolen moments with her. 

On the sixth morning, he goes to bed early; he's hardly asleep when she joins him in the dark of his mind. She looks relieved to see him.

"You're worried about me," Wanda says, sitting next to to him.

"Shouldn't I be?"

"No," she shakes her head. "I haven't given up. I haven't forgotten that there's beauty in the universe, too."

"Show me?"

She does: A snowball fight with Pietro at midnight, both of them soaked to the bone by the time he admits defeat—he was slower than her then, she tells Vision.

Then she shows him Stark tower—the first time Wanda saw him. "Not the you Ultron intended, but the one you became. The one who matters."

She lays her head on his shoulder. Above them, their constellation blooms.

Sometime later, she says, "The first night, you said, _'You're really here.'_ What did you mean?"

"Before, I kept seeing you. The imprint of you—from before I became me." The realization strikes him the same moment it does her; she lifts her head, eyes wide. "How did the Hydra agent activate the tether?"

"We touched."

 

"Well, I hope you learned something about poking around in people's minds," Tony says.

"Probably more than you did about creating genocidal robots," Rhodey counters.

Steve rolls his eyes. "Yeah, Ultron is the cautionary tale the keeps on giving. Can you fix it or not?"

Tony turns his attention to Wanda. "Touch activated it? What turned it off?"

"I don't know. I was always knocked out first."

"The hard way it is, then. Vision, point me toward the memory. I press delete, you're both free."

"You want to take his memory?" Wanda asks. "Will he forget me?"

"He shouldn't have that memory at all," Tony says. "Losing it won't affect the rest of his memories."

Vision can't justify the fear building in his gut. This memory may be the last vestige of Ultron he has, but he can't shake the idea that he might be less _himself_ without that memory. Wanda gave him his first glimpse of the universe outside Ultron's hate; she was a seed of rebellion Ultron had no idea had been sown.

But this can't go on. For her sake, it can't. So he says, "When?"

"Give me a few hours. I'll need a program your mind will accept. Maybe something based on JARVIS." He stands. "Good meeting. Go team."

The others wander off, but Vision lingers. "Can I help?"

"Know what? I think someone else needs you."

He turns, finds Wanda lingering by the door. "You haven't rested," she says, when he reaches her. "Come on."

 

In his quarters, they lie together on the bed. "This will be over soon," Vision tells her. "It won't be like Pietro. It will be gentler."

"I'm not afraid of this," Wanda assures him. "Only that Tony will take more than he should."

"He won't. I'll guide him." She shifts, turning on her side to face him, and he mirrors her. Vision has seen her in combat—a force greater than nature, he thinks. But now, curled against him, she's so small; and he marvels at how enormous humanity can be while so fragile.

This woman beside him is why he cherishes his humanity.

He smooths her hair, tucking her head under his chin. The barriers they've built are crumbling. "I couldn't forget you," he swears. It's a human promise—impossible to know he can keep, and still sincere because of the gravity with which he feels it.

Wanda lets him pull her close, and it feels so natural to him that he forgets he's never held someone this way. That he's never been held like this.

"We have a few hours," she whispers. "Let's sleep."

 

They sit in their bed of stars, at the feet of Wanda's constellation. "When Tony told us his plan, you hesitated. Were you afraid?"

"Tony was right: I shouldn't remember it. But I do. I can reach back to that memory, and I can feel you there. Your fear was there, but you showed me the universe. I don't know if I could have understood humanity as well without it."

"You fear… you won't be you."

"It shouldn't change me, but yes, I fear it will."

"Show me," Wanda says. "Show me, and I'll give the memory back." It's a beautiful idea, and he knows his temptation shows. "Vision, we didn't choose this. But you're going to let Tony Stark do this to save me. Let me do this for you."

She presses her fingertips to his temples, and he feels her mind brush against his. "Okay," he relents. "I'll give you the memory, but first, I have one more thing to show you."

He stands and helps her to her feet. Beneath their feet, and all around them, a city unfolds. Beyond it, mountains rise, and field bloom. "Sokovia," Wanda whispers.

"I found plans for reconstruction. I made a few modifications based on your memories." He leads her to a familiar apartment building. "When we spoke of beauty, you showed me the past. I wanted to show you that some of it is yet to come."

"Thank you," Wanda whispers; her grip on his hand is fierce, and he can feel the wild, hopeful rhythm of her pulse.

Together, they walk to a hill overlooking the city and sit side-by-side, looking into the future. Vision has give the city as much life as he can—people in the streets; birds in the air; and the swell a breeze that catches her hair and brushes it against his shoulder.

"Are you ready?" Vision asks, sometime later. The sun is high; their time here has drawn to an end.

"Yes," she answers, and rests her fingers against his temples. 

He closes his eyes and surrenders the memory: _Alone, he drifts in the infinite black. He goes where the current chooses. Then her mind finds his—a burst of color, a glimpse of light, the taste of fear._

Wanda lingers, and Vision allows himself a moment of selfishness. He gives her other memories: The feel of her in his arms as the earth fell away; the first time he saw her laugh; sitting with her beneath their constellation.

If this fails, Vision knows he would surrender his whole self to save her, and now, she'll know how much she's meant.

 

A knock on the door wakes them. They linger a moment; Wanda's eyes shine with tears—and perhaps with something Vision has only begun to hope for.

She rises first and offers her hand to him. At the door, they part, and find Natasha waiting on the other side.

She raises an eyebrow, but she doesn't comment. Instead, she guides Wanda down the hall, explaining that Helen will put her under while Tony extracts the memory—just to be safe—but she'll be near Vision.

When they arrive, Steve is waiting. "Ready?" he asks. Vision nods.

Once Wanda is asleep, Tony says, "All right, point the way."

"Do be cautious," Vision pleads.

Tony rolls his eyes. "Try to sound less like JARVIS, okay?" He brings up his program. "And _relax_."

Vision closes his eyes.

 

Wanda wakes half an hour after him. He's sent the others away—he knows without waking her that it worked.

It's a strange thing, knowing a memory has been taken, but not feeling the loss. Wanda stirs, blinking against the bright laboratory lights. "It worked," she whispers; and if disappointment tinges the words, Vision can't say he doesn't understand. He feels her absence, too.

She reaches for him, and he leans into her touch. She traces his face with her fingers. Whatever memory was taken, Vision feels certain the loss of it hasn't made him love her less. "Let's go," she says, and he helps her off the gurney.

 

She leads him to her room. Together, they stand at the foot of her bed. Outside, the world carries on as bright and loud as ever; inside this room, their universe is quiet and gentle.

Wanda cups his face in her hands. "Closer your eyes," she orders. As he does, the memory washes over him; like a favorite story, he rediscovers that moment.

 

"I love you," he whispers sometime later, in the deepening dark of her bedroom. He presses a kiss to her temple and falls asleep to the rhythm of her breathing.


End file.
